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The Girl With Red Hair By Michael J. Sanford
​ Genre:Fantasy

​She was just a lost girl when they found her. The circumstances are odd, that much is true. But she's just a child. She needs protecting. She needs guardians.
Before long, strange magic manifests from the small girl, equally awe inspiring as it is terrifying.

Does she control the fire and light?
Or do they control her?

Shadows are rising from Alfuria, the very world beneath their feet. Sometimes they call, wishing for an unending embrace.
Dragons have risen as well, from myth and legend, stalking land and sky. The roar of such beasts shakes even the most resolute warrior.

Shadows, gods, dragons, and the girl with red hair. What is real and what is merely illusion?

​from Chapter NineteenHe shouldered into the room, letting the door crash into the wall, not bothering to stop. His senses were sharp, even in the dim light. A flash of lightning beyond the balcony revealed everything in an instant and seared it into the backs of his eyes. Adelaide sat huddled against the headboard of the large four-poster bed, blankets pulled to her chin, her mouth reverberating with an infinite shriek of terror.Alexander turned to the shape coming in from the balcony. In the gloom, it was hard to distinguish; it seemed to be made of blackness. Burning yellow eyes stared back like small embers, giving away its location. It crept on all fours, but seemed capable of walking upright; it had the look of a shrunken and stooped humanoid. Its flesh was gray and pocked. Something akin to smoke drifted off it, as if it were a smoldering coal.Sachihiro and Jaydan stumbled into the room as the creature broke for the bed. Alexander moved to intercept it, but Sachihiro was quicker. Alexander stumbled to his knees as the burly man shot past in a streak of bare skin and lute. The creature screeched as it leapt for Adelaide. Sachihiro did the same, connecting with it in midair. They went to the floor in a twisted heap of man and shadow.Alexander found his footing and scrambled to help Sachihiro. He had managed to turn over and straddled the squirming creature. Long claws of black mist raked at the musician’s barreled chest. Sachihiro yelled with primal rage and set to smashing the thing’s head into the floor. Alexander slid towards the creature’s head and grabbed its arms. It felt solid enough, but the mottled skin was colder than anything he had felt before. He wrenched, stretching the arms until a sharp pop burst from its shoulder joints. Another pair of heavy punches from Sachihiro silenced the thing and it went limp.“More!” Jaydan yelled, and the room lit up with magic fire brighter than the lightning.Alexander spun upright to see Jaydan hurling thin spouts of flame at two more creatures that had entered the room. A third crawled onto the balcony and joined in a collective charge. They rushed at Alexander and Sachihiro. Adelaide continued to shriek behind them, her terror rising above the thunder that shook the room without reprieve.Alexander lunged forward to meet the foe. One was knocked off course by a burst of magic that impacted its side. The other two jumped at that instant, hitting Alexander solidly in the chest. Neither equaled even half his size, but the collective force took him off his feet. He landed on the fallen creature with a sickening crunch. Sachihiro tore one of the creatures free and tossed it across the room.Alexander’s field of vision vanished as a mouthful of wicked teeth opened before him. He twisted and brought his forearm into the creature’s throat. It snapped its jaw shut, just missing the tip of Alexander’s nose. Its breath frosted the warm air and its eyes flared.

​ Michael has always been a prisoner to his imagination. His childhood was spent running through the forest, pretending to be a gallant warrior saving the countryside from certain destruction. Or he was a ferocious beast terrorizing the very same countryside. There is always a story spinning through his mind. As an adult, writing has become the only way to keep his head from exploding.

He lives in upstate New York with his loving wife and two cats. If he's not writing, he's likely reading, weightlifting, or forcing his players into difficult situations from behind his Dungeon Master's screen.He is a storyteller first and a writer second.

Blamed for burning down the San Francisco wharf, clockwork inventor, Sensibility Grey has spent the last three months in hiding. Now all she wants is to depart the gold-crazy boomtown for a new life in the East. So when the owner of a traveling theater offers her work embellishing his mechanical stage, she turns him down. Then he turns up dead on her doorstep along with his enigmatic stage.

An explorer of the mysteries of aether, Sensibility has her own secrets to keep, and adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to learn them. Is the mechanical stage a part of a bigger game? Or the key to unlocking her true, magical potential?

A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical is book three in the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense.

Sensibility sat cross-legged upon her bed and tried not to think. She tried not to think of the ache where her stays pinched her back. She tried not to think of tomorrow’s journey across the American wilderness. She tried not to think about the clamor of banging drums and tootling fifes and--“Oh, good gad!” She clenched her fist, pieces of quartz crystal biting into her flesh. Sensibility sprang from the bed and threw open the boarding house window. Oppressive heat, acrid from the nearby outhouse, rolled into the room. Wrinkling her nose, she leaned out over the fenced back yard and craned her neck. The afternoon sun streamed through the laundry, hanging limp on the line. From her position, she couldn’t see the street procession. But neither could she avoid hearing their blasted parade.Something scuttled near her elbow, and she jerked away, slamming her head on the window frame. White pain arced through her skull.A baby raccoon, not much larger than the palm of her hand, cowered on the other end of the narrow sill. It scrabbled, hunching into a tight ball, trapped on the high ledge.“Ow.” She winced, rubbing her throbbing head and glad her chignon had taken the brunt of the blow. “How on earth did you get up here?”The raccoon mewled.“You shall have to make your own way home, for you cannot come inside. Mrs. Watson has a strict rule about animals inside her boarding house.”Gently, so as not to disturb the creature, she shut the window. The raccoon peered over the ledge then looked at her, his expression plaintive.Attempting to ignore the animal, she paced the denuded room, her brown skirts swishing.They had ample space to swish. Nearly all her belongings lay compressed into a single carpetbag, set before the empty wardrobe. The bedroom had an air of abandonment.Unsettled, Sensibility rattled the quartz crystals in her hand and glanced to the window.The animal stared inside, forlorn.She tugged at her collar. It was such a small thing. But rules were rules. “You found your way onto the ledge. You can find your own way down.”Sensibility turned to the journal open on the desk. Her sketch of an unworldly creature she’d once encountered scowl from the page. Frowning, she slammed the book shut. It had been careless of her to have left it open. Strange, she couldn’t remember examining the journal before she’d gone downstairs to retrieve her luncheon.The crystals pressed into her palm. She was so close to a breakthrough in aether technology, but the clues remained buried. Buried in the remains of her father’s last journal. Hidden in a journal from a traveling occultist. Scattered throughout her own notes and theories. One day soon, she would fit those pieces together. It was madness to hope she could solve that problem today.Sensibility opened her hand and gazed at the quartz crystals. She’d mastered the use of aether to power small devices. But aether had other applications, such as distance control and distance vision. These applications eluded her. “There has to be a way…”She glanced at the window.The animal raised itself on its hind legs and pressed its tiny black paws to the glass.Sensibility groaned. “I know I’ll regret this.” Pocketing the crystals, she opened the window.The raccoon cowered.“You,” she said, “being a wild animal, will attempt to bite me if I rescue you. But I will have none of it. I shall pick you up, I shall take you outside, and you shall neither bite nor scratch. Do you understand?”In a swift motion, she grasped it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it inside. It writhed, and her grasp on it loosened.She gasped. “Don’t….”The raccoon dropped to her desk and shook its head. Whiskers twitching, it scuttled to her abandoned luncheon tray and made free with a bit of toast.

​Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and in South-east Asia. Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.

Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes steampunk suspense and paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem. Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine.

Sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of the full length urban fantasy novel, The Alchemical Detective, and updates on her latest work at:http://kirstenweiss.com

Without Benefits By Nicole Tone
​ Genre: NA / Contemporary Romance

​Emma will always be a New Yorker at heart, even though she has a perfect life in Seattle. She has a prestigious job fundraising for the Seattle Symphony, a handsome boyfriend who adores her, and a Belltown apartment with views of the Sound. It should be more than enough to keep her pain from not playing the piano, and her 9/11 nightmares, away.
But when her old college crush, Owen, comes back into her life, it’s more than just spending time with him that’s causing cracks in her picture-perfect life. As she steps back on stage, and back into the spotlight, her connection with Owen and his world, dredges up old memories that Emma worked hard to forget.
Emma’s past comes back to haunt her, forcing her to face the truth about more than just her fears of returning back to New York. As her once perfect life begins to burn down, Emma is forced to figure out what she really wants: her fundraiser and cocktail party-filled life with her boyfriend, or forging a new future with the one thing, and one person, she’s ever loved–even if it means returning to New York.

​Emma reached up at the cupboard to grab plates on tiptoes, but Connor grabbed them first.
“I got it. You just worry about dinner.”
He kissed her cheek and put them on the kitchen counter. He'd already set the table, complete with placemats and candles. The flowers he bought her were already in a vase in the center. In the background, music played — instrumental and indie, something she knew he liked.
The vegetables sizzled in olive oil on the stove while water boiled, cooking angel hair pasta. The menu had changed from her original idea, but the smell of chicken cooking in the oven made her glad she decided to this instead of the stir-fry.
“If you insist,” Emma said, smiling. For a moment, she could see this — their future, them cooking together, going on like this forever. It wasn’t what she’d wished for when she was younger and more idealistic. But this was what her life was shaping up to be and she was happy with it.
“So, I was thinking,” Connor started, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. “I know we've been waiting to pick a date to get married.”
“Yes?”
“And I thought about this fall. September.”
Emma didn't look back at him. “I don't want to take the attention away from Danielle and Zach.”
“I know, I know. Which is why, I was thinking spring, like I mentioned at the Market.”
“You mentioned it last week, too.”
“So April 22nd? It's a Saturday.”
“Are you sure you want to get married that quick?” Emma turned towards him, one hand on her hip. She brushed her hair behind her ear with the other hand.
He nodded. “It's either that, or we're waiting a few more years before the date falls on a Friday or Saturday again.”
“And you already spent money on the ring. Might as well not have a long engagement,” Emma joked. Getting married on their anniversary was a cute idea but she wasn't sure how realistic it would be.
“Exactly,” Connor said, picking up the pan of pasta and dumping it in the colander Emma had put in the sink. “We could pawn it, go on a really nice vacation instead.”
“And continue living in sin?” Emma teased back.
“Might as well. We've gone this long.”
“Well, if we're going to hell anyway, what's another few years?” Emma pulled the vegetables off the burner and poured them into a bowl.
“I don't think I want to wait much longer before being able to call you Mrs. Dolan.”

​Nicole Tone is a freelance editor, MFA student, traveller, pet collector, binge-watcher, and a self-proclaimed coffee snob. She lives in Buffalo, NY with her husband, three cats, and two very large dogs. She cheats on Buffalo with Seattle as often as she can.

It was no longer just the life of the woman he loved that was in danger, but also the life of their unborn child. The undercover case Josh led was now threatening to take away his true happiness. And he must find a way to keep his family safe from the hands of evil.

Knowing that the devil is lurking in the darkness, Josh is left with no way to secure their safety. His fear is taking over.

Soon Leo would finally get the chance to make them pay for ruining his life.

His revenge was coming, and there was no one who could stop it.

The devil is near and Gabby is his targetâ¦.

And he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

The count down has begun.

Thereâs nowhere to hide.

They will all pay.

âThis ending is dark and gritty and packed full of action and emotion taking you on an amazing ride you won't want to get off.â - Reader Review

âYou can run Gabby, but Iâll find you.â He laughed with a sadistic cackle. A chilling fear rang clear as his laughter echoed off the trees. âThere is nowhere to hide. No one to save you. You are mine now.â

My feet ached as the branches broke beneath my bare feet. The darkness of the night left me with minimal clarity. It was scary being alone in the darkness, unaware of my surroundings and what may be lurking ahead. But hesitation only meant Leo may reach me; that was much scarier than any other danger ahead.

âGabriella.â Once again his voice rang out through the woods.

I had no idea where we were, or how far from the city he had taken me, but I couldnât think about that. I had to find a way back. I had to find help.

âIâm coming for you.â A sick feeling filled my stomach as his voice sounded closer than only seconds ago.

Something sharp cut into my foot and I gasped as I fell forward, catching myself against a tree. I reached down to pull out the sharp object that was now embedded in the heel of my foot. The blood oozed and a burning sensation made me wince as I dropped the shard of glass to the ground. A broken bottle of some kind.

âI thought we were becoming friends. You were beginning to understand what I needed from you, and I was just starting to reconsider selling you. In fact, I even thought about keeping you all for myself,â Leo hollered.

I hid behind a tree as I looked from side to side, hoping for some sign of where he was. I was turned around at this point and no longer knew which way I should run.

âBut you deceived me, just as your sister did. I donât forgive easily, Gabriella. I think once we reunite you may have to give me a reason to reconsider.â

The hidden meaning of his words terrified me. Chills ran through me as I thought about his hands on me. I cringed, remembering the way he had attempted to touch me only moments ago. There was no way I could take more.

Thunder rumbled overhead and I jumped in surprise. A storm was approaching and I knew it would only make my escape that much harder.

âGameâs over.â I jerked forward, trying to get away when Leoâs voice whispered in my ear. âItâs time for you to understand and accept who you belong to.â He gripped my arm as he stepped around to my side and circled his other hand around my throat.

His grasp on my throat tightened as he leaned in closer, within inches of my face.

Rain began to fall and he smiled as he tilted his head back and allowed it to hit his face.

His laughter broke free and I could feel the tears fill my eyes.

I closed my eyes and pictured Joshâs smile. Memories of the day we brought our son into the world together filled my mind. That was a happy day. And if I was going to die tonight, it was the vision I wanted to be my last.

C.A. Harms is like any other addicted reader. She enjoys happy endings and HEA love stories. She hasn't always been a lover of Romance and had once been addicted to a good Mystery. Just recently she has taken on a new liking and now is a full blown Romance novel addict.

She lives in Illinois and enjoys spending time with her husband and two children. You will always find her with her kindle or paperback in hand as it is her favorite pass time.

When Dominic Fairmore left Oregon to be all he could be as an Army Ranger, he always knew he’d come back to claim Lily Greene. But after six years away and three career-ending bullets, Dominic is battered, broken, and nobody's hero—so he stays away. Until he learns Lily has been the victim of a seemingly random attack. He’ll do anything to keep her safe . . . even go home.

Lily is starting to find a life without Dominic when suddenly her wounded warrior is home and playing bodyguard—though all she really wants is for him to take her. But she refuses to play the part of a damsel in distress, no matter how much she misses his tempting touch. He’ll leave as soon as she’s safe and Lily knows her heart will never heal.

But as attraction stirs to so much more, danger closes in. With more than Lily’s heart at stake, Dominic can no longer draw a line between protecting Lily and loving her . . .

​Prologue“You painted your toenails pink.”Dominic Fairmore stared at Lily’s bumble-gum colored nails. He didn’t trust himself to look up. Downstairs, his dad’s dogs made the familiar trip to the water bowl and back, probably stopping to sniff the bag of Chinese take-out he’d abandoned on the kitchen table. The animals’ nails tapped against the hardwood floors, but otherwise silence filled the farmhouse. His little sister was at the beach and his dad was pulling a double at Forever, Oregon’s woefully understaffed police station. And yeah, he kept track of their locations because at twenty-two he still lived at home.Lily raised one perfect eyebrow. “I have two hours before my mom expects me home and you’re looking at my toenails?”Her ironic tone pushed him damn close to his breaking point. He’d take her. Here. Now. Against the wall, pictures falling to the floor. Because he knew she reserved her humor for him. The rest of Forever saw a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman who charmed a room full of five-year olds day after day. A girl who’d been born here, grown up here, and put herself through the local university while still living at home to care for her wheelchair-bound mother and alcoholic father.But Dominic saw the only girl he’d ever loved. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture her, walking down the halls of their high school. She’d been one year ahead of him. She’d graced the dreary high school halls with her sunshine smile and confidence. And yeah, her short skirts.He’d memorized the way her cheerleaders outfit teased her thighs while she led the squad her senior year. He’d been a junior, but already shepherding the football team to one victory after another. And sometimes it felt like he busted his ass on the field and won the game just to see her smile . . .But he couldn’t close his eyes and block out the way Lily looked right now. His gaze drifted up her calves. Every inch of bare skin wrapped around his heart like a noose. He took in the curve of her thighs and tried to go slow. His jaw tightened and his eyes disobeyed.Fuck slow.His gaze locked on the slip of fabric disappearing between her legs.“Your panties match your toenails,” he growled. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his voice. He couldn’t picture laughing now. In two days, he’d wreck her heart. He would shatter their love and leave her with nothing but memories and the promise that he’d come back.I swear I’ll come back for her.But so much could change while he was on the other side of the country training to be all he could be. And later, once he deployed, on the other side of the world.Two more days. Two more nights.How many times could he make love to this woman before they ran out of time?“Are you sure they match?” she teased. Her fingers brushed the waistband of her panties and then her thumbs slipped beneath the pink fabric.His hands formed tight fists at his sides, watching as she drew her underwear down to her toes. Her upper body stole away his view of the blond curls, instead offering the sight of her full, bare breasts hovering in front of her legs. Long locks of blonde hair drifted down as she compared the color of her underwear to her nail polish.“Lily,” he growled and stepped closer.She glanced up at him and slowly, as if she knew every movement of her body turned him on and pushed him closer to that place where he lost control. But hell, after six years together, Lily Greene damn well knew how to drive him crazy with lust and longing.“My nails are a light pink. I think the bottle said ‘Ballet Slipper.’ But my underwear is closer to fuchsia.” She tossed her panties at him. “See?”Years of training on the football field kicked in and he caught the slip of fabric in his right hand. “You’re right,” he said and he took a step forward. He threw her underwear down to the carpet without bothering to study them.“You need to be home in two hours?” he asked.Her teasing smile faded at the reminder of the reality beyond the bedroom walls. “You know I do.”“We might not have time for the Chinese food.” He momentarily blocked his view as he drew his ‘Go Army!’ T-shirt over his head. He discarded the reminder of where he was heading in two days’ time. He wanted to leave this town and the dead-end future it promised, but not Lily.“I hate Chinese,” she said.She reached forward and grabbed onto the belt buckle his father had given him after he won the state championship with his high school football team. He pressed his palms flat against the wall, one on either side of her head. He couldn’t touch her. Not yet.“I know.” He allowed her to pull him close, her fingers working to free his belt and undo his jeans. “I didn’t want to run the risk that you would want to eat first.”She smiled as her hands won the battle with his belt. Drawing his zipper down, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Smart man.” Her hands pushed his pants over his hips and then went in search of their target.“Lily,” he gasped as her fingers wrapped around the part of his body that thought ‘slow’ spelled disaster. Hell, it just might. He wanted her so damn much he might come in her hand. “Careful,” he added. “Or I’ll be about as useful as I was the first time. In the front seat of my truck.”“Have as much self-control now as you did at seventeen?” she challenged, her hand moving up and down now.“You know it.” He took his right hand off the wall and cupped her jaw. Angling her lips up to meet his, he kissed her. He knew her mouth. He’d memorized the way she liked his tongue to tease hers.His hand moved down her neck and over her shoulder. His fingers froze, hovering on her collarbone. He knew the feel of her soft skin as well as he knew his own. But dammit, he couldn’t take the weight of her breast in his hand, her nipple brushing against his palm, and still maintain control.She broke the kiss. “Don’t hold back, Dominic,” she whispered. “You never have before. Don’t start now. You know how to touch me. You’re the only one—”His growl cut off her hushed words. He was the only one who knew the color of her panties. The only man in her bed. The only one who heard her sly humor. And yeah, the only man in Forever, Oregon who loved her.For now . . .

After several years on the other side of the publishing industry, Sara Jane Stone bid goodbye to her sales career to pursue her dream-writing romance novels. Sara Jane currently resides in Brooklyn, New York with her very supportive real-life hero, two lively young children and a lazy Burmese cat. Join Sara Jane’s newsletter to receive new release information, news about contests, giveaways, and more! Visit www.sarajanestone.com and look for her newsletter entry form.

Where society’s elite go to explore their darkest desires. And where promises of freedom are just manipulative lies.For a price, the world’s most powerful people can have their darkest desires. On a private island hidden in the ocean, they may hunt humans for game, attend gladiator-style fights, participate in elaborate orgies, and freely indulge in all the deadly sins within the cosplay of ancient times.Abducted from their life in Miami, Valoria and her younger sister wake up in this secret society, wherein Valoria is condemned to the fights and her sister is taken away to become a sex slave.Now “property” of a sadistic tyrant, Valoria joins other men and women captives who are forced to fight and maim for others’ enjoyment, to run in their hunts, and participate in deviant fantasies. And she’s under the cold, watchful eye of Alexior, a hired trainer with his own agenda for being involved in the twisted decadence.After surviving several near-death ordeals, a defiant Valoria focuses on her training and against all odds soon becomes a favorite. But she fights for one thing and one thing only—to be reunited with her sister and to be freed.But promises of freedom are sometimes just manipulative lies . . .

A truly gripping, dark and twisted read! I loved this book! Definitely not for the faint of heart, I actually love dark and sadistic books, so this one fulfilled quite a few of my psychotic desires! While it elaborates on some dark topics, it wasn't too gruesome and explicit though. The storyline was very original, the characters were extremely complex and the emotions were intricate and palpable. Fast-paced and with plenty of plot twists, I was absolutely enthralled from the very first page and stayed on for the gripping ride until the very end! This book definitely makes you ponder whether a place like this really exists- there's a definite possibility it might! The premise of either being a fighter or a house slave is a flashback to the earlier history of mankind and can definitely still be going on somewhere in the world right now. I really enjoyed this dark and depraved book that had me grasping for a glimmer of hope! I will definitely be checking out some more books from this author!

S. E. Green (aka Shannon Greenland) is the award winning author of several novels including the teen thriller, KILLER INSTINCT, and the spy series, THE SPECIALISTS. She lives off the coast of Florida with her very grouchy dog. Find her at www.segreen.net

​Once upon a time,In a city not so far away,There lived a girl who was in love with her brother's best friend.Years later, their paths crossed again.But he wasn't the same man she once knew.Jaded by the world, he decided to use her as his pawn in a plan for revenge…British businessman, Mason Woodward, seems to have everything going for him. He’s handsome, wealthy, and knows how to get what he wants. His best friend, Travis, was like a brother to him, until the day he found him in bed with his girlfriend. Now, Mason has a plan for payback that involves Travis’ younger sister, Jillian."The plan seemed simple. I'd use her every which way, and then send her back to her brother with a clear message: You had your fun, and I had mine."Little did I know that I'd end up falling for her…The Manhattan Series includes all three books in the set.Book 1: His PawnBook 2: Queen In PlayBook 3: End Game

​“What are you going to watch?” I asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

“I don’t know,” she sighed and then smiled at me as I sat down on the other end of the sofa. Her legs were stretched out across the leather, but there was still plenty of room.

“I never tried Netflix,” I commented. “Come to think of it, I don’t ever use this TV.”

She looked at me and grinned. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

I watched her scroll through the titles, more fixated on her than the selections on the screen. I watched her face; the light had returned in her large, dark eyes, which were the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen, truly. Her chest heaved up and down lightly beneath her sweatshirt, and then she suddenly sat up and grinned broadly as she selected a title. I didn’t even know what she chose. I wasn’t paying attention. The words of my cousin haunted me, and I struggled to push them away as I watched Jillian. I’d all but forgotten the frustrations of the day when I laid eyes on her.

I finally looked at the screen and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Pretty Woman?” I knew what she was getting at with this title.

“Sure, why not?” She asked, trying to remain casual, but she was such a bad actress and I saw the glint in her eyes as she looked up at me. Then she switched out of the movie and returned to the main menu.

“Alright, that was a bad attempt at a joke,” she giggled as she lay back with her head on the armrest of the sofa.

I smirked, but then she began rubbing her bare foot on my arm playfully. I looked down at her and saw the teasing smirk on her face. I wrapped my hand around her ankle and gripped it firmly. Her face suddenly fell, noting the warning look on my face.

“I warned you not to test me, Ms. Pryor,” I stated calmly.

I watched her breathing hitch as she looked up at me. Then I snickered and brushed my forefinger down the sole of her foot. She flinched, giggling.

I arched a brow. “Oh, ticklish there, are you?” I brushed two fingers around the sole and she flailed more, hysterical.

“No, Mason. Stop. Please!” She continued her hysterical laughter as she tried to yank her foot from my grasp, but it was no use. My cock hardened at the sight of her thrashing body.

“Where else are you sensitive, Ms. Pryor?” I asked, grabbing her other foot. She responded in a fit of giggles, writhing, trying to yank her foot away. I leaned closer, trailing my fingers up her leg while my other hand kept her left ankle bound in my grip.

“What about…here?” I asked, slipping my hand beneath her sweatshirt. I felt the smooth, warm silk of her skin. My fingers lightly caressed her soft stomach and she gave another burst of giggles.

“Mason, really. Stop, please,” She giggled, trying to turn away from me, but my vice-like grip on her ankle kept her where I wanted her. She squealed and whimpered, and now I was aching beneath my pants.

Finally, I stopped my torment and she looked up at me, breathing heavily. Her eyes shone, still laughing softly as she looked up at me.

“You’re wicked,” she said, trying to glare, but her eyes still radiated.

“You have absolutely no idea, sweet pea.” I knew my smile was wolfish.

​Willa Thorne is the author of the sexy and steamy Manhattan Series & the standalone romance, CLOSED HEART, which just released in February of 2016. For those of you who aren’t familiar with her work, She writes sensual, contemporary romance stories which are filled with emotion, secrets and twists.She is originally from New Jersey, and currently lives in Southern Connecticut with her husband and rescue pup.

Life isn't always fair. Llewellyn Gardner knows that first hand. He was on the fast track—college dreams, a boyfriend—until one night of extreme passion changed everything. Eight years later and out of prison, he still lives with the aftershocks of that night. Everywhere he turns there’s another reminder of crime people insist he committed, so he runs away to a new town to start over.

For Shane Smith, Jr., owner of Smith Construction, there’s something about the gorgeous, misunderstood man with the overly expressive eyes and dark past. Shane sees the good in Llewellyn— it’s why he hired him—and he isn’t going to let the man cut himself off from the world.

Llewellyn isn’t sure what to think about Shane. After years of protecting himself from being tricked twice, he’s worried. What will happen if Shane doesn’t believe the truth about his past?

“Your ass is mine when I catch you… literally!” Llewellyn yelled as he rounded the large kitchen island. His boyfriend was his best friend as well as his lover. In the small town of Emporia, Virginia, they were likely the only gay students in their high school. That anyone knew about. A kid that moved there from Los Angeles a few years back was gay and unashamed of it. He was colorful and flamboyant because he felt free to be himself. The community had been so cruel to him and his family, that they were run out of town so fast Llew didn’t remember the pretty boy’s name. He did remember being envious, though.

It was by sheer accident that Llew and Moss discovered each other’s sexual orientation in the first place. They were football teammates and both attended a party hosted by one of the cheerleaders during their freshman year. Rosie Jameson’s parents were traveling salespeople who left her and her twin sister home alone every couple of weeks. So that meant at least twice a month the teenagers had something fun to do in their dreary-filled-with-retirees town. Llew and Moss got shit-faced drunk, and ended up alone in Rosie’s father’s den watching WWF Smack Down. Moss couldn’t hide his hard-on while watching the oily, ridiculously hot, and ripped wrestlers writhing and rolling all over each other in the small wrestling ring. When Moss looked horrified that Llew had busted him and was ready to bolt, Llew smirked at him, and pulled up the hem of his long hoodie, exposing his own erection. The conversation they had that night changed their lives. They didn’t immediately fall in love, but things progressed fairly quickly from that point.

They were so young back then; they just wanted to be friends. They needed someone to talk with openly, a friend they could drop the mask with. The mask they had to wear twenty-four-seven with everyone else.

When Llew got pneumonia in their sophomore year, neither his mom nor dad could afford to take time away from work to stay home with him all day. Moss was there every day before and after school, taking care of him the same way a significant other would. Llew knew then that things had changed between them. He suddenly saw Moss’ blond shaggy hair as sexy instead of messy. He’d noticed that his friend’s once scrawny frame had benefited from their hours in the weight room after school. Now his best friend was seventeen years old, with fashionably tousled hair, bright blue eyes, and a tightly packed body.

“Stop chasing me, I’m tired.” Moss rounded the corner of the media room, and hurdled over the couch in the formal living room like the track star he was.

“Then stop running,” Llew huffed back, quickly closing the distance when Moss slowed down. Llew tackled his boyfriend onto the plush carpet, pinning him beneath his much larger body. He gripped both Moss’ wrists together above his head, and used his other hand to push back the long bangs that had fallen over those blue eyes. He loved Moss so much. They’d been inseparable from the moment they met six years ago. Seamlessly transitioning from friends to lovers, now all they talked about—well, Llew talked about—was leaving for college where he could love on Moss freely.

When they first moved to Emporia, Llew’s father owned a small landscaping business and was contracted to service the mayor’s property. Llew was ticked off he had to help his father every summer. Kids would tease him when they looked out their windows or rode by on their bikes on their way to the YMCA pool. While he hauled away overflowing bags of cut grass, Moss had come out of his mansion and started shooting baskets at the hoop in his immaculately paved driveway, but not before giving Llew a bottle of water and extending him an invite to play along. Although Moss was wealthy, the son of the mayor and sixth generation heir to the McGregor Empire, he never looked down on the working class like his parents did.

The mayor and his wife weren’t bad people; they were wonderful to the townspeople. In spite of that, they always felt that their son could do better than the company he chose to keep. After Llew’s parents died last year in a car accident, they took pity and stopped giving him and his older brother dirty looks. His now twenty-six-year-old brother was his only living relative and had moved back home to take over their father’s business and make sure Llew graduated.

Moss opened his eyes. The usually bright blue irises were the color of the sky before a thunderstorm, dark and smoldering with lust. “Mmm. In about an hour.”

“Damn. I could fuck you so hard right now.” Llew spread his legs wider, and drove down hard, pulling a strained moan from his boyfriend.

“Would you throw me around first? Slam me against the wall and take it has hard and fast as you wanted?” Moss moaned, his hips rising up to meet Llew’s punishing thrusts.

“Ahhh, God. Hell yeah, I would. You’re such a fuckin’ pain slut, babe.” Llew groaned, pulling hard on Moss’ hair. His guy was into hardcore fucking, and Llew couldn’t deny that he loved that shit, too. It was smoking hot. Moss would scream his name, bite, and scratch him while he pounded his tight ass. No matter how hard he fucked him, Moss would beg for more. He loved being tied down, gagged, and even slapped a little. Llew had almost twenty pounds on his track star, so he was careful with him, but oh, how he got a head rush from controlling him. They were limited to backseat fucks most of the time, but every now and then Moss’ parents would be out late at a charity dinner, or some official function, and they’d have well into the night to explore their ever growing need.

“I would love for you to be bad right now, Llew, but you gotta go. I don’t feel like hearing my parents’ shit.”

“Damn. How come they think I’m not a good enough friend for you?” Llew sat up, turning his back to his boyfriend. He pushed his hand through his thick, brown hair. “I’m the fuckin’ star running back on the football team, and I have the eighth-highest GPA in our class. Goddamn. You think they’re setting the bar a tad high on who’s worthy to hang around you?”

Moss rose to his knees and draped his long arms around Llew’s neck. He kissed him softly behind his ear, whispering in that voice that always calmed him. “Soon we’ll be away at college. I’ve already gotten into UCLA, and I know your acceptance letter is coming any day now. The scout couldn’t say enough good things about you, right?”

Llew just slightly nodded his head.

“Okay, then. We’ll be together. No one will give us a second look if we’re holding hands there. Or kissing. Or touching.” Moss punctuated each statement with a kiss to Llew’s neck.

“What if your dad finds out we’re seeing each other while you’re in school? What if he stops paying your tuition, or rent, or some shit? Would you like… stop seeing me?”

“Stop worrying. Damn. You’re driving me crazy with all these questions.” Moss stood abruptly, walking further into the media room, fixing the pillows they’d knocked off the couch during their roughhousing. Eliminating any trace that Llew had been there.

Moss had begun to insist that Llew not be around when his parents were home, anymore. Said it was easier for him. How? Llew had no idea. As far as anyone was concerned, they were friends. Just like so many other kids at school.

“Hey. Alright, I’m sorry. You’re right. Being together is all that matters. We’ll always be together.” Llew cupped Moss’ cheek, tilting his head up to look at him. He didn’t comment on the look he saw in his guy’s eyes, but he noted something was off. He’s probably stressed with exams and everything coming up. He didn’t have time to think about it any longer, since the front door beeped to indicate someone was coming in.

Moss pushed him away, almost causing him to fall over the low coffee table in front of the couch. “Shit, babe, calm—”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. Are you crazy? Hurry up! Get your stuff,” Moss whispered harshly, his eyes wide and terrified. It wasn’t like they were in there getting high or something.

Llew shouldn’t have let Moss’ words bother him, but they did. You would’ve thought he was on the Feds’ most wanted list the way his boyfriend was acting. He yanked his backpack off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. When he got to the marble foyer, he tried to ignore the disdainful look Moss’ father threw him.

“Good evening, Mayor McGregor, Mrs. McGregor, how are you?” Llew said in his most polite voice.

“Oh. Hello, Llewellyn. I’m just fine, thank you. If you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. McGregor said, on her way past him. She never wasted time on pleasantries with him.

“What are you boys up to at this late hour?” Mayor McGregor stood eyeing them cautiously, one hand in the pocket of his dress pants, the other leaning on the mahogany foyer table.

Llew looked at his watch. It’s not even seven o’clock. “Um, I just stopped by to give Moss his AP History notes back. He loaned them to me—”

Llew looked back at his friend and saw how he hung his head at his father’s tone. “A couple guys on by brother’s crew caught the flu, so I missed my last two classes on Monday to help out at the business.”

“I see,” Mayor McGregor said casually. “Why don’t you two step into my office for a quick chat?”

Both of them were trying to avoid any type of chat, conversation, pow-wow, or anything else with Moss’ father. He was intolerant to say the least; but whatever he wanted to discuss with them wasn’t going to be fun.

“I’ll be brief.” His tone and his expression said that it wasn’t an option.

Moss sat ramrod straight in one of the two wingback chairs facing his father’s large desk. Llew placed his backpack on the floor and gingerly sat in the other chair. He wasn’t slouching, but he wasn’t about to sit at attention like he was in front of the President of the United States, either. Although the design of Mayor McGregor’s office could fool you into thinking you were; it was even oval-shaped. The American flag stood tall behind him, just in front of the royal blue curtains flanking the window. The wall was adorned with degrees from UCLA and Harvard. Expensive-framed pictures of Mayor McGregor with influential politicians were mounted on the adjacent wall, and sat on three large bookcases. Llew’s head whipped around from the massive thirty- by-twenty-inch framed family painting when Mayor McGregor cleared his throat.

“How’s the business going for your brother, Llewellyn?”

Llew looked to his boyfriend, but of course, his head was tucked low, not meeting his father’s eyes. Well, this pompous bastard didn’t intimidate Llew. His father had instilled good moral values in him and his brother before his death. Llew had no reason to hang his head.

“Business is doing well, sir. Leslie’s even picked up some commercial properties in Colonial Heights. He’s had to hire a third crew to cover the demand,” Llew said proudly. His brother had really done well with his father’s legacy.

“Are you going to be joining his crew after you graduate in a couple months?” Mayor McGregor inquired casually. He had dismissed Llew’s proud statement, continuing to follow his own agenda, without bothering to look at Llew as he shuffled some papers around on his executive-style desk.

“Yes, sir. I’m going to work for him like I do every summer. Then I’ll be leaving for college in the fall,” Llew said, trying unsuccessfully to meet Moss’ eyes.

“I haven’t yet, sir. I’m still waiting to hear back from my first choice.”

Moss finally turned his head towards him, eyes begging. What the hell? Llew looked tiredly at his boyfriend, knowing that he was pleading with Llew not to mention the possibility of him attending UCLA. Honestly, though, how was that going to be a secret any longer, once he was accepted? Word traveled quickly in their parts. No doubt, his big brother would be bragging all over town, too. It had been his parents’ dream for both of their sons to go to college. Unfortunately, Leslie had to leave during his second year in graduate school to bury his parents and take care of Llew.

“And your first choice?” he asked impatiently.

Llew and Moss continued to watch each other. Moss’ brows scrunched together with annoyance. Fuck that. Llew was pissed now. True, they were both in the closet; because it just wasn’t worth the trouble to come out in their town. He hated when Moss made him feel like he wasn’t even worthy of being his friend. Why couldn’t they go to the same school? UCLA was ranked number twenty-three in the nation’s top universities. It took more than just the ability to catch a football to get in. Moss should be proud of him, not only as his boyfriend, but as his best friend.

“Virginia Tech, sir.”

“Mmm. They have a good athletic program. You should fit right in, Mr. Gardner.”

Llew’s jaw was clamped shut so tight, it ached. He released a calm breath before adding, “They have a top-ranked engineering program, sir; since I also have an academic scholarship.” Llew held back his grin at the faint redness that was creeping over the mayor’s pristine white collar. Llew had already been accepted to Virginia Tech, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being twenty-four hundred miles away from his boyfriend.

If his father were here, he’d tell Mayor McGregor exactly what he thought of his son’s athletic and his academic accomplishments. He wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him. He wanted to do his father proud, but he loved Moss, he’d do anything for him. They only had to endure this bullshit a little while longer.

“You know Moss will be attending the family alma mater, UCLA, to carry on the McGregor tradition. You boys have been inseparable since middle school and I’ve tolerated it because it—”

Mayor McGregor sat forward, his hand tightly gripping the polished surface of his desk. “Yes, tolerated it. Boys will be boys. Now it’s time for Moss to grow up and be a man, leaving childish things behind. He has a duty and obligation to his family’s name.”

Llew didn’t know why he looked at Moss then, but he did. How could he sit there and allow his father to degrade someone he loved like that? Did Moss consider him to be a “childish thing” in his life?

“I understand, sir. I best be getting home now, my brother and I have plans,” Llew said as respectfully as he could muster, already standing and slinging his book bag over his shoulder. They had nothing more to discuss.

This book was such an emotional roller coaster - but I loved it! The writing was excellent, the storyline was very well executed and the characters were incredibly complex with intricate and palpable emotions. I completely felt for Llew and all the trials and angst that he had to go through! While the first half was about all the injustice and betrayal that he had to go through, the second half bloomed into a beautiful, touching love story that really touched my heartstrings. This book really took me on a spin of emotions and I found myself unable to put it down until I could find out what would happen next. Overall though, the ending was very satisfying and this really was a beautifully emotional read!

​A.E. Via is a best-selling author in the beautiful LGBTQ erotic genre. She’d been reading gay romance exclusively for over ten years before she decided to submit one of her own stories for publication. Her writing embodies everything from spicy to scandalous. Her novels often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths. When she’s not clicking away at her laptop, A.E. devotes herself to her family—a husband and four children.

Although she’s still a fairly new author, she has plenty more to come.

FBI Special Agent Tom Donovan is about to nail the drug lord he’s been investigating when Angel Ramos does the unthinkable: He kidnaps Tom’s eighteen-year-old son, Kenny. The FBI responds with a powerful show of force but Ramos manages to elude them. Tom is furious, his wife is terrified, and their son is forced to confront evil face-to-face.

Tom devises a brilliant plan to rescue his son, but on a windy, rainy night in Washington, his past collides with his present in a dramatic turn of events, and Tom discovers his greatest strength isn’t his at all.

“The Tiger’s Cage” is a story of courage, faith, and endurance in a violent world.

“You bet.” Kenneth Patrick Donovan turned toward his home, just a mile away. His suburban Northern Virginia neighborhood was quiet, peaceful, softly illuminated by lights from living room windows spilling onto front yards in gentle squares. Four inches of snow from yesterday’s storm lay on the ground, fluffy and clean, like a down comforter shaken and re-laid on the earthy bed.

No one was out, not even the neighborhood dogs, and Kenny drank in the solitude like a tonic. He couldn’t get the meeting out of his mind. Amazing. He was learning so much. Shoving his hand in the pocket of his high school letter jacket, he fingered a little metal cross. He looked up at the starry January sky, and it seemed he could see forever.

He didn’t notice the white Chevy van as it came down the street. He heard a noise. A small alarm went off in his head. He started to turn around, too late.

They grabbed him from behind. Kenny’s head snapped back and fear exploded in his belly. He pulled against their hands, and sucked in a panicked breath as someone shoved a bandanna in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe! The night disappeared under a knit hat.

“Hurry!”

They pushed him toward the street and he braced his legs, resisting, until a sharp crack on his head impelled him forward. He stumbled. They grabbed him by his collar and threw him onto the ribbed metal floor of a van.

He tried to get up. They held him down, forcing his hands together behind him. “Tighter!” he heard one of them say, and zip ties tightened around his wrists. A new wave of terror ran through him. No, no! He fought wildly, like an animal in a trap, the plastic cutting into his flesh, and he made it to his knees. Then a blow to the back of his neck made him collapse and he lay helplessly on the floor, trembling with fear and exertion.

The side door slammed shut. Kenny felt the van accelerate. A musty, heavy tarp dropped on top of him, suffocating him. He moved around, trying to find an air space. He got a sharp punch in the ribs.

“Stay still!” a voice commanded.

Oh, God, he thought, help me! Who are these people? And every muscle in his eighteen-year-old body began shaking uncontrollably.

Night had fallen like a magician’s cape over the streets of Alexandria, Virginia. The bright lights were scattered like multi-colored sequins over the darkness. As FBI Special Agent Tom Donovan worked his way through the congested downtown, he looked at the glittery night with a jaded eye. He stood close enough to the stage to see the magician’s tricks, to know that behind the shimmering lights were dark pools of despair—shadowy alleys and dirty streets where twenty minutes of euphoria could be bought in a vial for ten bucks and paid for, forever, with your soul.

As he drove along, Tom rehearsed the details of his testimony for the next day’s grand jury over and over in his mind. Catching Angel Ramos’s right-hand man, Miguel Camacho, with a kilo of coke was a stroke of luck even he couldn’t have anticipated. An indictment would up the odds of flipping Camacho. His testimony against Ramos could bring the drug kingpin down once and for all.

Satisfied at that thought, Tom flipped on the radio to a sports-talk show. Callers were re-hashing the Buffalo Bills game against Pittsburgh on Sunday. He had no dog in that fight, and changed stations. “Today, President Bush announced that …” yada yada. Punching that off, he inserted a cassette. Upbeat Celtic music. Perfect.

Twenty minutes later, Tom pulled into the garage of his Fairfax County home. As he did, he felt a vague uneasiness, confirmed by Cathy’s glare as he walked into the kitchen. “Hey!” he said.

“Where’s Kenny? I expected you both to be home when I got here.”

Tom’s mind began racing. Where was he … when was he … was he supposed to …

“You were supposed to pick him up!” she said. “You forgot, didn’t you?” She had dark hair, like him, but her eyes were blue. When she was angry, they seemed to develop flecks of gold, like sparks from a blacksmith’s hammer.

“Tonight?”

Cathy rolled her eyes and turned away.

Tom cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’ll get him now. Where is he?”

“He gave you that information. You were the one who was supposed to get him.”

“Oh, right.” Tom began patting his pockets, searching until he found it—a scrap of paper with an address. “Got it! I’ll be right back!”

But when he arrived at the house on Littlefield Street, the two-story white Colonial looked dark except for one small light in an upstairs bedroom. Puzzled, he jogged up to the front porch and rang the bell. A minute later, a man in a plaid bathrobe answered it. “I’m Tom Donovan,” he said to the man. “I was supposed to pick up my son, Kenny. I guess I’m late.”

A teenaged boy came partway down the stairs. “Mr. Donovan? Kenny said he’d walk home.”

“Yes, sir. Coach said we had to be in bed by nine thirty, so Terry kicked everybody out at nine.”

“Thanks,” Tom said. “Sorry to bother you.” He turned and stepped off the front porch. The door closed behind him. How far was he from home? A mile? Two? Shouldn’t Kenny be home by now?

Kenny struggled to stay calm. Within minutes, the van stopped, the door slid open and strong hands jerked him to his feet, pulling him out. He twisted again, trying to get away, but the grips holding him tightened. Heart pounding, Kenny tried to see, tried to hear, tried to figure out where he was. He could feel pavement under his feet, and a little loose gravel. The knit hat covering his eyes seemed a little floppy and by twisting his head just the right way, he could see just a bit of the ground.

What now? He was breathing hard. He heard a car door slam and footsteps, and then he smelled something. A cigar? He looked down. A pair of cowboy boots appeared right in front of his feet. A shiver went through him.

The cigar smoker pulled Kenny’s wallet out of his back pocket. “Donovan. Muy bien.”

That voice … did he know that voice?

The man laughed. “Your father will be missing his boy, no?”

Kenny could smell the cigar, so close.

Then the man jerked open Kenny’s letter jacket. He ran his hand down the young man’s ribcage. Kenny reacted, pulling against the hands holding him. He twisted his head right and left, finally dislodging the bandanna in his mouth. He sucked the cold night air into his lungs. “What do you want?” he cried out, his chest heaving. “Who are you?”

The man hit him, hard, across the mouth. Kenny’s head jerked to the side and he felt his lip split against his teeth. He swallowed blood.

“Shut up.” The man grabbed Kenny by the throat, pressing his thumb into Kenny’s neck. “Just shut up.” He released his hold. “My muchachos, they are bored.” He switched to Spanish. “Haz lo que quieras.” Do whatever you want.

The snakes in Tom’s belly were starting to slither. He drove slowly through the empty neighborhood, then pulled into the garage and entered the house. “Cathy!” he bellowed. “Is he here? Did he come home?”

Cathy emerged from the family room. “No. He wasn’t at that house? Where is he?”

“I have no idea. He told them he’d walk home.”

“That’s ridiculous! Where could he be?”

The anger in her voice masked fear. Tom knew that. “I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Where does he go? What does he do? McDonald’s? Where do I look for him?”

“That started just a few months ago. You’d know that if you were ever around!”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Not that he’s told me.” Cathy raised her chin, and in that small gesture, Tom saw vulnerability.

“Look, Cathy, there’s probably some good explanation for all this. Kenny’s a good kid.” They’d gone through some tough times with their son when he was younger, but Tom thought those were behind them. “Maybe he stopped to help someone with homework. I’ll go back and get the names of the kids he was with. Then I’ll check around the neighborhood.”

“I’m going to look, too.”

“No. You stay here.” His voice sounded firmer than he intended.

Cathy’s mouth tightened into a line. At first, Tom thought she was going to argue with him. “Someone needs to be here when he shows up,” he added. “You can page me.”

She glared at him. “Fine. Do it your way. Just find him, Tom!” Her voice caught, and she walked swiftly out of the room.

Kenny sensed several men around him. Five, maybe six guys. What were they going to do?

The first blow slammed into his gut, and Kenny’s breath exploded out of his lungs. Then came another, higher, and to the right, and pain screamed through his ribs. Another blow landed, and another. He felt himself slipping, sinking to his knees, and the blows became kicks against his body, his face, his legs. “No!” he breathed. “No!” And then the blackness began to envelop him. He collapsed and fell, the loose stones of the parking lot studding his face.

He was a little boy again, on his first bike with hand brakes, a silver Columbia five-speed. He was so proud! He whizzed down the hill past his grinning, clapping father, his hair blowing in the wind. He owned the sidewalk! He was king of the hill!

But he was going too fast. He squeezed too hard, locked the brakes, and sailed over the handlebars, his mouth wide with surprise. He hit the ground hard.

Dad’s here. He was safe now. His father’s strong love could fix anything.

Kenny Donovan turned his head. Asphalt. Stones. Ice. Dad wasn’t here. He was on his own.

Tom steered his car back to the house on Littlefield Street, parked, rang the doorbell, and apologized when the dad in his robe answered again. “He’s not home yet. I need to know who my son was with,” Tom explained. “I need names.”

The dad motioned him in and, with Jason’s help, compiled a list of eighteen kids and their phone numbers. “Thank you,” Tom said, as he stood up to leave.

“I hope he shows up soon,” the dad said. “I’m sure he will.”

Tom nodded. Then he looked Jason’s dad in the eye. “Why was he here, anyway?”

“FFA.”

Tom blinked.

“Fairfax Fellowship of Athletes.”

What kind of … when did Kenny get hooked up with them? His jaw tightened. “Thanks.” Tom started to leave then asked, “Do you mind if I use your phone?” He’d have the office page his FBI partner. There was no one he’d rather have with him right now than Jack McRae.

About the Author

Linda J. White is the author of multiple FBI thrillers including the HOLT Medallion-winning “Seeds of Evidence.” She lives in Fauquier County, Virginia with her husband Larry, who worked at the FBI Academy for over 27 years. When she’s not writing she likes playing with dogs and her grandchildren and going to the beach.

About COLD HEARTED

Hunting For A Killer...Who Doesn't Play By The Rules.

Detective Erin Donovan expects life to quiet down after the arrest and conviction of a serial rapist who terrified her university town last summer. Then two young women are brutally slain and the murders bear all the hallmarks of the campus rapist. Did Erin arrest an innocent man? Now her job is at stake and tensions are high and just when it looks like things can't get worse, her department gets the help it needs to solve the double homicide--in the form of a man Erin has never been able to forget. FBI Agent Darsh Singh has no interest in reliving the past. Three years ago, his feelings for Erin Donovan had him breaking all his rules about getting involved. Now his only interest in the former NYPD detective is figuring out if she screwed up a rape investigation and helped send an innocent man to prison. But being forced to work together rekindles their old attraction, and as Darsh and Erin fall for each other, the campus predator fixates on Erin. The race is on to identify the ruthless killer before he makes Erin his final victim.

Want to win?

About Toni Anderson

New York Times and USA Today international bestselling author, Toni Anderson, writes dark, gritty Romantic Suspense novels that have hit #1 in Barnes & Noble's Nook store, the Top 10 in Amazon and Kobo stores, and the Top 50 in iBooks. Her novels have won many awards. A former Marine Biologist from Britain, she inexplicably ended up in the geographical center of North America, about as far from the ocean as it is possible to get. She now lives in the Canadian prairies with her Irish husband and two children and spends most of her time complaining about the weather. Toni has no explanation for her oft-times dark imagination, and only hopes the romance makes up for it. She's addicted to reading, dogs, tea, and chocolate. If you want to know when Toni's next book will be out, visit her website (http://www.toniandersonauthor.com) and sign up for her newsletter. If you want to read other fascinating stories about life in a city that, during winter, is sometimes colder than Mars, friend her on Facebook: (https://www.facebook.com/toniannanderson).

About Me

I'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy!​My blog is about the best things in life - cooking, books, giveaways and reviews of everyday products! ​This is a PR-friendly blog!!